Weak

At my age of 22, I’d like to consider myself indestructible. I am in the best physical shape of my life, can pull an all-nighter without suffering, and drink large quantities of beer and still be ready for breakfast the next morning. Nagging aches, fatigue, and medical conditions are for the old. Their bodies are not as strong as mine. They are worn, and they are weak. I am young, and I am strong.

But recently I have grown very concerned about my health. It started two weeks ago, when in the middle of class my heart began racing and pounding into my chest. I tried to alleviate the feeling with deep, labored breathing, but soon my vision became glassy, my arms felt numb, and periodically I felt as though my heart had literally stopped beating. I whispered to my friend Jess that I needed to be taken home, as I had no idea how to stop my body from freaking out on me. In the middle of class, I had to stand up and leave, whispering to another friend to inform the professor for our next class that I would be absent that night.

My initial feeling was that I had taken too much caffeine during the day and experienced an “overdose” of caffeine. Over about 7 hours I had a cup of coffee, a cup of espresso, and a Red Bull-type energy drink. All this with only a biscuit in the morning, I might add. My parents confirmed my suspicions and suggested a few remedies that helped but never eliminated the symptoms.

Such an overdose is usually completely over in a few days, and I felt better with each passing day. But my body never felt completely normal. Periodically I’d feel shooting pains down my arms, awaken short of breath, or notice slight discomfort in my chest. Over two weeks these problems became less frequent and less intense, to the point where I anticipated a full recovery was near.

This morning I woke up feeling great. After completing a project for class, I felt the energy to go boxing again. I had gradually phased in the boxing to regain the peak physical condition I was previously achieving with these exhilarating workouts. An hour and an incredible workout later, I returned home to shower, eat a few slices of pizza, and go to class. I still felt great.

About five minutes into class, I suddenly felt as though my heart had stopped beating. When I regained my breath, the numbness in my arms returned, and my chest was pulsating. I quietly left to class and paced through the hallway. A prayer to God, Please make this go away, Lord, followed, as did a trip to the water fountain. I felt much better, returned to class, and hoped I could make it though the remaining 50 minutes of class.

The clock creeped as though time itself was low on battery power. After a brief period of feeling 100% fine, the chest attack returned, reoccurring periodically over the next 15 minutes. I felt completely out of control. Secretly I prayed to God to just let me make it through the rest of class. But I couldn’t. I was too scared, and I needed to do something. Two weeks to the day, in the same classroom, I had to excuse myself and escape for home.

I called home, nervous, pissed, embarrassed, and in need of a solution. Something had to be wrong, and this had to be addressed. My parents and I agreed that I would find a doctor to confirm our suspicions of the underlying problem. Most likely the caffeine thing had triggered an underlying problem. The part that humiliates me, though, is that the problem I have sounds pretty ridiculous. The cool medical term is GERD, Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease. The sad truth is, this is essentially fancy code for really bad heartburn.

There have been times when I seriously wondered whether I would pass out and die, and all of this has been caused by fucking heartburn?!? Come on, heartburn? This kind of stuff should be happening to forty-somethings whose bodies aren’t what they used to be, not to a 22-year-old who boxes and enjoys hot wings and pizza. I shouldn’t be experiencing “ailments” that plague me constantly and cause me to leave class early.

I’m very embarrassed that I left class early today. I wanted so much to gut it out and quietly leave for home at the end of class, but I felt out of control of my body to the point that I needed to escape. Now I’m the guy who has left class twice because he’s got something wrong with him. It’s not even something cool like some weird exotic disease. My esophagus can’t handle my diet of espresso, red pepper, and tomato sauce. It causes me problems that need to be addressed by a medical doctor.

Tomorrow I’ll most likely have to nod to my classmates and assure them that I’m ok. It will be a somewhat humiliating task. I appreciate people being concerned, but I don’t want to be the guy that everyone is concerned about. I don’t want to be that guy who’s had to walk out of class twice because of a physical condition. I don’t want to be that guy who everyone secretly wonders if he’ll make it through the rest of the classes. I don’t want to be that guy that gets asked, Are you okay? at the beginning of class because he’s had sudden and severe physical problems in public.

But I am that guy, and I’ll be relieved when I find out how to defeat this problem and am allowed to return to my delusions that I am a mighty specimen impervious to attack.